Twenty–seven years ago, on February 22, 1986, my wife Margie and I were in a prayer meeting in Lagro Village, in Novaliches, Quezon City in the house of Tony and Lyn Meloto (who many years later would collaborate with others in the establishment of the Gawad Kalinga which like its foreign counterpart, Habitat for Humanity, provides socialized housing for the poor). We heard word of a big gathering at Camp Aguinaldo which, based on initial reports, was not associated with any pro-Ferdinand Marcos group.
The Philippines was in great turmoil after the Marcos-controlled Parliament shamelessly proclaimed the dictator the winner of the snap Presidential election called by Marcos on November 3, 1985. Marcos, under great pressure from the administration of US president Ronald Reagan to secure a new mandate and thus make real the claim that the Philippines was a working democracy, martial law having been “lifted†years earlier, announced that a presidential snap election would be held the following year, 1986. The Marcos-dominated unicameral Congress known as the Batasang Pambansa then passed a law that called for elections for President and Vice President on February 7, 1986.
For us who had opposed Marcos even long before he declared martial law on September 21, 1972, the call for elections was another golden opportunity to expose Marcos’s sins of abuse of human rights, repressive rule and corrupt governance the way his dirty linen was exposed to the world in April 1978.
While we welcomed the news, we were not foolish enough to think that Marcos would be so stupid as to allow fair and honest elections to end what had become a profitable presidency that started in 1965. It of course helped that the candidate of the opposition was Sen. Ninoy’s widow, Corazon Aquino who during her entire life as Sen. Ninoy’s wife, dutifully carried out her role as mother to her and Sen. Ninoy’s five children.
Sen. Ninoy’s execution at the then Manila International Airport on August 21, 1983, triggered widespread non-violent protests (which turned ugly only because of Marcos planted provocateurs and police and military brutality) and a sustained campaign of civil opposition. No day passed without the street parliamentarians using their imagination to show their opposition: from children’s rallies to rock concerts to motorcades and creative merchandising. There was no internet yet and computers were used mainly as typewriters and data processors. There were no mobile phones to speak of and yet, the Filipinos managed to unite and share information.
All throughout the three years from Aug. 21, 1983 to February 26, 1986, we were out there in the streets joining the millions of kindred souls. We got to form the Professionals for Democracy (PROD) and even our dreams of becoming a lawyer were put on hold (temporarily, I thought at that time) after I, a La Sallite through and through, gave up my slot at the Ateneo College of Law at De La Costa since we were in the middle of the protest movement and would not be able to attend law school.
During the presidential campaign, we joined the Cory Aquino Media Bureau which held office at the ground floor of the Cojuangco Building. There are too many people with whom we had the pleasure and privilege of working for us to name but they know who they really are. All of us were volunteers who did not bother with titles. We had a mission and it had to be achieved even if it meant having one’s ego deflated once in a while.
I had as one of my tasks, keeping count of the victims of election violence. In the days of the diskette (no hard disks and USB’s at that time) and with computer programs just in their infancy, we tried our best to keep an accurate report on how many opposition leaders were killed, salvaged, maimed, mutilated (as in the case of the Quirino, then a sub-province, incident where bodies of Aquino partisans were hung on trees).
From February 22 -25, we stayed at EDSA. We arrived Saturday 5 p.m. still suspicious of what was going on but anybody who opposed Marcos was our ally. Our decision to stay became easier when Jaime Cardinal Sin called on freedom-loving Filipinos to “help our friends in Aguinaldo and Crameâ€. Monday morning, February 24 was particularly scary. Around 7 a.m., several helicopters hovered above us. We were at the Crame parade grounds and we didn’t know if they’re friendly or enemy helicopters. After a few minutes, the “rebels†unfurled rolls of toilet paper to show they were one of us. We had held our ground while reciting what we believed were our last prayers and as we reviewed the images of our four children whom we felt we may never see again.
Two days ago, 27 years later, at the EDSA People Power Monument, we relived EDSA 1 and vowed that never again will we allow tyranny to rule over our beloved land.